


Myths and Magic - Harry Potter and the Transfer Students

by smouse348



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Heir of Slytherin, Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smouse348/pseuds/smouse348
Summary: Nico di Angelo's long (1000+ years) dead sister, Helena, climbed out of a shallow grave in the woods with instructions for a quest. He's been living the Myth part of his old favorite game, but now it's time to immerse himself in the Magic side. Taking Will Solace as their third the questers travel to Scotland to defeat an dark wizard and (hopefully!) stop the third war in their short lifetimes before things get out of hand.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Life After After-Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fan work, Rick Riordan and JK Rowling take all the credit for PJO and HP respectively.

All things considered, Helena found that being dead wasn’t all that bad, especially when you were a daughter of Hades. She’d lived a good life, not an especially lengthy one – no one who died at sixteen could say that – but it had been full despite the brevity. She’d met a boy, fallen in love, gotten engaged, she had a job she liked, and a bright future; and lost her life preventing a war – kind-of, as it turned out she’d just delayed it for a little over a millennia.

Sure, after the first few centuries it had gotten a little boring, but things picked up again, they always did, there was that one time when she’d lain down for a nap in the garden and woken up a little over a decade later in the middle of the first world war – she still wasn’t completely sure how that happened, the war or the nap. For the most part though it was really quite nice: she had a charming little house in Elysium, had tea at the palace every Saturday with her father, and she got to keep learning – meeting new people, reading new books, and all the new sciences – electricity, that was especially fun to study.

Eventually she’d found not just a best friend but a spark of purpose in her half-brother, a sweet little kid who’d wondered into the underworld (still very much alive, mind you) shortly after the death of his big sister.

Helena hauled him up to his feet and told him that in their life if they didn’t get up and fight, they’d lose all their loved ones. She’d pressed a stygian iron sword into his hand and showed him how to use it. When he’d lead an army of the dead against the Titans, she’d been the shade by his side, dagger in hand. She’d followed him into Tartarus, and even briefly crossed through the doors of death, just long enough to face the giants on the battlefield before returning to their father’s realm – and finally managed to finish the war she’d been killed trying to prevent.

She’d lived a good life, and at this point a full afterlife. That unsettling feeling in her gut about not fully defeating Gaea the first time she’d faced the goddess was gone, her little brother was… well, happy wasn’t a term many people would use to describe Nico di Angelo, but as little as he showed it she knew it was accurate.

_Perhaps its time to consider rebirth_ , Helena thought vaguely, looking into the depths of her teacup. She was seated at the little table in the wrought iron gazebo in the palace gardens, it was beautifully carved, and blood red roses curled through the bars of the roughly waist high fence that encircled most of the area. Personally Helena found that it made her feel like she was sitting in some giant bird cage, but she could see why Persephone was so found of the place, it had a dark sort of beauty to it, like much of the underworld.

“Evening my dear,” a soft rumble of a voice greeted.

“Is it?” Helena asked, drawn out of her deep thoughts and looking to her watch, it was challenging to tell the time of day in the underworld, it was just generally dim all hours of the day.

“Allow me,” Hades offered, snapping his fingers so the dark liquid in her cup started steaming again, before sitting down and filling a second cup for himself.

“It is still Thursday, right?” Helena confirmed, taking a sip of the warm liquid.

“Yes,” Hades told her, “Been out here a while?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Helena smiled to him.

“I can tell,” Hades gave her a slight smile, reaching over to poke her forehead, “You’ve got that adorable brow furrow.”

“What brings you out here?” Helena asked deciding she wasn’t quite ready to put a voice to her thoughts.

“I miss Persephone,” Hades admitted, “And I heard you were out here.”

“Summer’s almost over,” she assured, a little hollowly, eyes drawn back to her ring finger – it’d been over a millennium and the ring felt less like an accessory and more like a part of her. 

“I am sorry about Gregor,” Hades told her, reaching over to take his daughter’s hand.

“I’ve been thinking about it you know,” Helena admitted, “Rebirth.” She clarified.

Her father nodded silently, waiting for her to continue at her own pace.

“Now that Gaea is well and truly beaten, I feel more at peace than before,” she reached up to rub the spot on her chest where a dirt root had ripped through her heart, “I feel as though it might be time to be somebody new.”

“It is your decision to make,” Hades reminded her, “I would miss you, my dear.”

“It’s not the type of decision that one makes in haste,” Helena smiled to him, putting her empty teacup on its saucer and standing up, “For now I will sleep on it before considering more.” She explained, leaning over to kiss her father’s cheek before heading down the gazebo steps and taking the long way through the garden back towards Elysium.

**

Something much heavier than her quilt was pressing down on her. Her eyes wouldn’t open and when she tried to take a breath she was drowning in dirt. Panic seized her and she lurched into a sitting position the top layer of soil crumbling away as she blinked, tears welling up to force the dirt from her eyes. She spat a mouthful on the ground next to her, a hacking cough forcing its way through her body as she looked around.

Helena seemed to be sitting in a shallow grave, loose soil around her, underneath a large gnarled tree. If she had to guess it was late afternoon, quickly approaching evening by the light, and there was a steady thumping sound echoing in her ears. She looked down at herself, black jeans, a t-shirt with a skeleton on the front, leather jacket – it was as though she’d raided Nico’s closet, right down to the black combat boots she found when she’d kicked the rest of the dirt from her body so she could stand. A stygion iron dagger was strapped to her thigh, and she pulled it, turning slowly as she considered her surroundings, seeking the source of the thumping sounds.

_Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum._

No monster made itself readily apparent, no movement aside from a slight rustle as the wind picked up. Helena grit her teeth together, somewhere in the far recesses of her mind she recognized the noise, and instinctually knew it was quite wrong – of that she was sure. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.

Her frustration mounting, she adjusted the grip on the dagger and took a deep breath, the sound – so familiar and yet so wrong… if only she could remember…

It hit her like a ton of rocks.

It being realization and a moment later a blond teenager with a flag in one hand and a quiver of arrows over one shoulder.

_Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum._

Helena – dead since 930 – had a heartbeat.


	2. The World of the Living

Hades was trying to be mad – on principle he was supposed to be mad anytime someone escaped death, especially when it was one of the other gods who aided the escape, but this was his daughter. Also, it was his first time in the throne room since the remodel and his new throne was surprisingly comfortable, so that was rather pleasant.

“She is far too powerful and from an…” Zeus hesitated for a moment, a look of distaste on his face as he tried to find the word, “Unpleasant time. We cannot risk war between our children again!” he demanded looking between his older brothers and then glaring at Hecate.

“Helena was never involved in that battle,” Hades reminded rather coldly – his daughter had consistently refused to take sides in the competition between Zeus and Poseidon’s children at that time, a fact that had gotten her stabbed by Finnian, son of Poseidon (admittedly it had been _lightly_ stabbed, but it was more the principle of the matter than the extent of the injury).

“There is already a war brewing, and she is needed,” Hecate insisted, glowering at Zeus with her normal stubbornness.

“It is not **their** war,” Apollo reminded, “They have already seen too much conflict.”

Hades tuned out the following bickering between his nieces and nephews – Ares always in favor of war, Athena reasoning that no war was entirely not their problem, and Apollo demanding that their children had done enough (turning ever few seconds to his twin and imploring her to take his side, even as she remained stoically silent).

“Hades?”

He looked up to find Zeus standing by his side, the argument on the throne room floor having apparently drawn everyone’s attention.

“Yes, brother?” Hades asked, Zeus just gestured vaguely to the veranda and, intrigued, Hades followed him out to lean against the railing overlooking the once again gleaming city of Olympus.

“I would hear your thoughts,” Zeus prompted after a moment.

Hades sighed, turning so his back was against the railing and crossing his arms over his chest, “My thoughts are in almost as much turmoil as your throne room. She is my daughter, she is supposed to be dead, she could help and protect people – in the end I think that is all she’s ever wanted.”

He paused and Zeus just leaned against the railing beside him in silence.

“As God of Death, I will not stand in the way of this resurrection, I would make it her choice what to do at this time,” Hades explained, “Knowing her she will join the fight.”

Zeus nodded, “I am of the same opinion, but I do not appreciate the methods used to force our hands.” He grit his teeth, eyes narrowing, “And I am loathe to let Hecate win when she played so dirty.”

Hades smiled at him, it was times like this when he would look at Zeus and see that golden haired baby brother he’d known when the world was still so young and their father still sat on the throne.

“You have always been stubborn, mikros,” Hades smiled patting Zeus on the shoulder.

“Don’t call me that!” Zeus protested childishly.

“However accurate a nickname it may be,” Hestia mused, apparently having followed the brothers out onto the terrace, “ _Little-one.”_ She added, using English instead of the Greek.

“I am **not** little,” Zeus reminded waspishly, “I am the King of Gods!” he added.

“Remember when he was only this big,” Hestia held her hand out around waist level, “And he would climb up the highest hill by the villa, pluck a stalk of wheat and declare himself king, brandishing the grain as a scepter?”

“I remember Demeter weaving him a flower crown, and having to bow a lot,” Hades chuckled, as Zeus went scarlet.

“I wish he really had eaten you two sometimes,” he grumbled.

“Then who would have climbed up after you when you got so high in the trees you forgot how to get down?” Hestia asked, looking to Hades.

“And who would have dried you off, wrapped you in a blanket and started a fire whenever you fell in the river?” Hades added, smiling to his sister.

“You love your brother very much,” Hestia reminded both of them, “Even if neither of you will ever admit it.”

Zeus snorted stomping back into the throne room and instantly ordering the others all back to their seats.

“I love him even when I want to wring his neck,” Hades said quietly to Hestia as the two followed behind.

“I love him even when I want to put hot embers in his slippers,” Hestia admitted.

**

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Will apologized, springing to his feet and moving to help the girl he’d completely plowed over get up, the game along with the flag he’d been carrying forgotten, “Are you okay?” he asked.

She was entirely too pale, with dark nearly black eyes and chocolate brown hair. For a near moment she could have been mistaken for Nico – in all black and thin as a rake. He didn’t recognize her immediately, she was probably visiting from the Roman camp, after all Will was fairly confident in his ability to identify all the Greek campers. She was covered in dirt, like this hadn’t been her first tumble in the woods that evening, almost a little dazed she reached up to touch her face and he saw the blood.

“Oh, we should put some pressure on that,” Will added quickly, looking for cloth as blood dripped from her nose, “Damn, I really hope I didn’t break it.” He muttered, ripping the flag from its pole and bunching it to press against her face.

“Will Solace, right?” she asked, wincing, her voice a little thick, and piercing dark eyes examining his face.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Sorry, I…uh… I can’t remember your name. Oh, this might hurt.” He added, running two fingers down her nose and then pinching it between his knuckles as he popped the cartilage back into place, she grunted, wincing.

“We’ve never met,” she told him, brining one hand up to touch the side of her nose, “Thank you.” She added taking the cloth from him and applying pressure to her face alone.

“Oh… I, well I just assumed, you knew my name,” Will really was a fairly confident person, rather good with people, and reasonably smart, but he got the feeling this might be one of his worse first impressions.

“Nico has a photo of you on his phone,” she told him bluntly, sliding the dagger she’d been holding into the sheath on her thigh.

“You’re a friend of Nico’s,” Will smiled to her, willing himself not to blush as he discovered his anti-social, quiet, sometimes standoffish boyfriend had apparently been talking about him – and maybe even bragging over a photo, although that was probably just wishful thinking.

“Am I right in assuming this is Camp Half-Blood in New York?” she asked.

“Yes,” Will told her, “Do you not know where you are?” he asked.

“I do now,” she pointed out.

“Did you hit your head?” Will asked, reaching to run his fingers along her head but not finding an obvious damage, “Let’s get you to the infirmary, I should take a look.” Will told her, the game forgotten, “You might have a concussion.”

“I doubt it, but you should still give me an exam,” she told him, letting him put an arm around her waist and take her hand so he could lead her back towards the main section of camp.

“Can you tell me your name?” Will asked, running through the standard checklist for a concussion in his head.

“Helena,” she told him.

“Do you know what day it is?” Will asked.

“Um…” she hesitated, looking around, “A Friday in early August.”

It sounded like a guess but was technically correct so Will let it go.

“Any pain?” Will asked.

“Just my nose,” she assured him.

“Sorry, again, seriously I should have been watching where I was going,” Will told her, as they used a couple of flat steppingstones to cross the creek without getting their feet wet.

“You were dashing to your victory, I completely understand,” Helena smiled to him, taking the cloth from her face for a moment as the colors changed from the Sea-Green it had been since the week before when Percy had jumped the creek the flag in his hands. It was now grey but the design was obscured by blood so Will wasn’t completely sure what symbol had appeared on it.

“I seem to have stolen your win, my apologies,” Helena added, pressing the cloth to her nose again as fresh drops of blood hit her shirt.

“I broke your nose,” Will smiled at her, “I’d say we’re even.”

“Sounds reasonable,” she told him, and he’d guess from the amount of her face that he could see she was smiling to him.

“I should tell Chiron it’s over,” Will added fishing in his pocket for a whistle and giving it two sharp blows when he’d finally found it.

**

Helena quickly discovered she liked Will Solace, boyfriend to her baby brother. She’d always kind-of theorized that she would, if he was good in Nico’s book then he couldn’t be all that bad, could he? He was uniquely genuine, his emotions played out across his still childlike soft features. Besides, he seemed sweet enough, a competent medic, and he had a good sense of humor – kind, patient, funny, and able to roll with the punches. Yes, this was exactly the kind of man her little brother deserved.

There was a clomping of hooves and excited shouts as the small clearing where the two had been standing was suddenly descended upon by a horde of campers and the centaur in response to Will’s whistle.

“Nice work Will!” a blond girl was congratulating, clapping the boy on his shoulder, before she noticed Helena and stilled, tilting her head.

“Are you okay, my dear?” Chiron asked, bending his front legs so he was closer to eye level with Helena, noticing the blood.

“Broken nose, he reset it,” Helena explained, nodding to Will.

“Helena!”

She hadn’t been sure he’d be here; sure, he had been spending a lot more time there recently, but still he had a tendency to wonder. But at the astonished call of her name she turned to find Nico di Angelo pushing his way through to the front of the crowd – the type of shocked look that normal people would compare to that of one seeing a ghost, but as ghosts were a near daily occurrence for children of Hades the saying hardly applied.

“Helena,” he repeated, having broken through the crowd and taking an almost hesitant step into her space.

“Nico,” she smiled to him, letting the flag fall from her hands as he moved even closer and wrapped his arms around her waist in a tight hug, which she returned.

“Helena,” he added sharply moving a half step back mouth slightly open and then bending his head to press an ear to her chest, “ _Come?”_ he asked falling seamlessly into Italian.

“ _Non lo so, piccolo,_ ” Helena smiled at him, as he straightened, “I don’t know.” She repeated herself in English.

“It would seem we need to talk,” Chiron mused and the two turned to look past a gaping Will to the centaur who had picked up the blood stained flag holding it up so that they could see the seal of Hades in the center of the fabric, “I thought you looked familiar, but is there any chance that’s really you, Helena, the Silver Snake?” 

“As always Chiron, I am but your humble student,” Helena bowed to her old teacher.

“It has been quite some time,” Chiron observed, folding the flag.

“Eleven hundred years, give or take a decade,” Helena confirmed with a nod.


End file.
